


Mundane

by zanni_scaramouche



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Fic - Sorta, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanni_scaramouche/pseuds/zanni_scaramouche
Summary: It wasn't their lives that made them different.They simply were.





	Mundane

**Author's Note:**

> My first in a long time. The last fic I posted was bandslash in 2013... god I feel old.
> 
> So! Here we go again. I watched both Skyfall and Spectre once each when they first came out and not since. Hopefully my minimal working knowledge of this cannon does not interfere with the coherencey of this write up. I am on a journey to better perfect my writing, and I know that every piece I write I could tweak for years and never be happy with. All I ask is that they be better than the last. That being said, and if you’ve taken the time to read this, I hope you enjoy my teeny tiny rambles here. 
> 
> PS  
> Posted from my phone and I’m feeling nervous about the formatting.

The thing is. Well the thing is they both grew up normal.

Two parents each. Both families odd in their own ways, but no more so than the rest. There were no traumatic accidents or hideous secrets. No great betrayal or hidden abuse. In fact, their biggest tragedies consisted of distant relatives dying of age and a run away cat that did not, for the matter, come back the very next day. 

Normal. Mundane. 

It wasn't their lives that made them different. They simply were. 

James enjoyed sports, had since childhood. He enjoyed the stretch in his lungs and the burn of his muscles. The competitive streak in him was a mile wide. It bled into his academics. His book material was learned to impress, to show off to girlfriends he "studied" with. To see the faces on the other kids when class grades were released and he received highest once again. He liked seeing the spark of admiration in the girls eyes and the clenched jaw of the boys he beat. He liked winning. More than that, he liked the self satisfaction that came with a job well done. Be it in the form of paper written tests, or the countless sports teams he captained, or a brawl in the mud fought simply for the thrill. It was a feeling of pride that overwhelmed him in these moments, and it was ten to none. 

Naturally, with his peacock sense of pride and duty, with his easy athleticism and quick mind, he joined the Navy. From there, it only made sense for him to fly through the ranks. His brash action and Alpha Male nature did not make him the most liked, but he made up for that in charm. 

He was pig headed and could be absolute shite at teamwork, but he always came out the other end with a cocky quirk of his lips that never failed to be endearing. Lovers throughout these years were countless, but not worthless. His need to excel presented itself as a need to please in the bedsheets, a fact that made him a generous lover. 

His faith in his country grew with that of his commanders. For all his rule bending he never doubted their cause or goals, simply the way in which they were achieved. It suited him as much as he suited it. When MI5 came knocking it was only natural, they’d say, for him to open the door and grin.

Q was mousy, lanky, and wore large glasses. As a teenager he found social interaction unfavourable. He turned to the land of mental exertion for an escape. Number puzzles and word riddles did just fine for him as a child, but with his puberty came major modern advancements in technology. 

Soon everything was a riddle. From his calculator to his land line to the car in the drive, he wanted to know how it was made. The big mystery was always what made things work. What allowed them to do the things they did. He buried himself in manuals and blueprints and the technical jargon of engineers. When that didn't suffice, he got his hands on a screw driver and went to work. His work was obsessive, but no less so than some teenagers love of graphic novels, or cosmetics, or sports. 

Naturally, computers fell into his sights. He wanted to know them inside and out. After deconstructing and rebuilding his seventh, he turned to the true 'inside'. Software, programme, data, script, code. Hack. It sucked him in further than any project before. His mother left dinner to cool untouched on his desk, his father sat at the table and shook his head while muttering into the paper about a lack of friends. He wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t exactly right either. There were no names or faces, only challenge and competition between them. Every glitch was a puzzle, an unfinished string of code a riddle. It was addictive for Q, this community based on knowledge and skill. Nothing was better than being the first, the fastest, the smartest. Nothing was as rewarding as a job well done. 

High school finished. University continued through a computer science and engineering double major that were below his level. He could find nothing more suitable. Requests from his circle online started to feel simple, easy and tame in a way that didn’t please his minds want for challenge. They never met, or in most cases spoke in words other than prompting code, but they were the closest thing to friends he had. Society had not grown on him throughout the years. He adopted a cat, and this suited him just fine. 

There was no desire to leave his country, and there was yet to be a proper course for his biggest interest. Hacking wasn't necessary in daily life, and illegal for a reason. But that didn't stop him from doing so just to see if he could. Idle hands, and all that. When MI6 showed up on his doorstep he was not surprised. With tousled hair and bloodshot eyes he demanded “What took you so bloody long?”

Their first steps into HQ took them over the threshold of “Normal” and into something decidedly not.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP ME APART! I want ALL the critique and criticism you can think of. Thank you <3 
> 
> I have vague notions of continuing this. Thoughts?


End file.
